


I'll Haunt Whoever I Want

by lovelyanxieties



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Age Difference, Dead Iwaizumi Hajime, Depressed Oikawa Tooru, Even in death Iwaizumi has to babysit Oikawa, Fluff and Angst, Iwaizumi Hajime Swears, M/M, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, Writer Oikawa Tooru, ghost au, i guess
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-09 17:48:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27690238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovelyanxieties/pseuds/lovelyanxieties
Summary: (Currently put on hold for other stories)"This is my house," Iwaizumi snarled.Oikawa pulled out a crisp piece of paper, one the bank had given him hours ago. "Technically," the writer said, "it's my house."Iwaizumi narrowed his eyes at the paper, lips twitching in annoyance."But you're free to stay."Oikawa was sure that if Iwaizumi had a body, he would've punched him.Or: Oikawa's an under-paid writer in need of a distraction, and that distraction comes in the form of an old house and the ghost of an attractive man named Hajime Iwaizumi.WARNING: This story contains depression, attempts at suicide, and talk about death
Relationships: Hanamaki Takahiro/Matsukawa Issei, Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru
Comments: 20
Kudos: 149





	1. It's Our House Now

At the time, Oikawa thought the old house to be a reasonable purchase.

Yes, he was doing just fine in his small, cramped Tokyo studio apartment, but the sadder Oikawa became, the more he longed for a change of scenery. Eventually, his feelings boiled over, and Oikawa used his below-average salary as a writer to purchase an old, Victorian house. Other than the fact it was far too big for one person and the abandoned graveyard a few miles away from the property, the house was perfect.

Spacious and elegant, and filled with rooms Oikawa to fill with whatever he so desired. The kitchen was up-to-date, the water and electric bills already set, all thanks to the previous owner. The last owner was an older woman on the cusp of death, and she was more than eager to hand the house over to Oikawa. Oikawa failed to remember the woman's name, only aware that her given name was Riku and her family name ended with an _I_.

Within a month of purchasing the house, Oikawa moved out of his apartment and was currently driving down the busy streets of Tokyo with his best friend Hanamaki in the passenger's seat. Hanamaki had been Oikawa's best friends since high school, always by his side through his best and his worse. Unfortunately, his life consisted of a lot more 'worse' than 'best.'

Their third year of high school, when Oikawa had become captain of their volleyball team, his knee gave out, the muscles inside tearing so badly Oikawa was kept on crutches for the rest of his third year. Oikawa had a passion for volleyball, and it was cruel that it was stripped away from him so quickly. Makki stayed by his side the entire time, helping Oikawa find a new love in literature. Makki was by his side when he was diagnosed with depression, when Oikawa's life turned darker and darker with every passing month, and when Oikawa attempted to end his life.

Despite what he told his friends and family, Oikawa never stopped wondering how much easier things could be if Makki hadn't found him quick enough.

Had he not been driving, Oikawa would've pulled his hood over his head and curled up against the glass.

"Do you have everything?" Makki asked for the nth time that day. "Clothes, supplies, papers," Makki hesitated before saying, "Meds?"

"Yes, to all of those," Oikawa mumbled.

Oikawa drummed his fingers on the steering wheel as he thought about what his parents had said when he told them about the house:

 _"It'll be good for you,"_ His father said with a strained smile, _"Maybe a change will make you - "_ He had hesitated, just like Makki had seconds ago, when he continued and said, _"Happier."_

His mother nodded in agreement with a thin-lipped smile.

Oikawa tried to ignore the cloudiness of her eyes. It had been present ever since Oikawa's attempt.

"Are you sure you don't want help with setting things up?" Makki asked, bringing Oikawa back into reality. "Issei and I don't mind."

Matsukawa Issei, Hanmaki's long-time boyfriend, and soon-to-be fiance, though Makki didn't know that. Matsukawa was also a friend from high school, one of Oikawa's best friends. Oikawa had been there when the two started dating, when they had their first fight, and when they broke up after graduation because of a nasty spat. He was there when the two would call him separately to whine about how much they missed the other. He was there when the two got back together, and he would be there when they got married because there was no doubt in Oikawa's mind that Makki would accept the upcoming proposal.

Oikawa shook his head. "I'll be fine; I need the exercise."

Even with his knee healed, Oikawa lost his flame for volleyball. Fear held him back, and he knew that, but he could never bring himself to walk back to the court. Muscles and stamina he gained from volleyball steadily vanished, leaving him a tall and scrawny man with a somewhat beautiful face. Makki and Matsukawa tried many times to get Oikawa back into volleyball. They failed.

"We'll still come over now and then," Makki assured, "the others want to see you, too."

"The others" were Oikawa's former teammates, the ones who still considered him captain despite not being able to play. Oikawa was ashamed of how he avoided the team after high school and often wondered how they considered him a friend despite it. It was another thing on Oikawa's list of reasons he hated himself.

Makki suggested a therapist countless times before.

Oikawa never went.

"I'd like that," Oikawa replied weakly. He wasn't sure if he was lying or not. "I take this left, right?"

"Yeah, then just go straight until we're out of the city."

Oikawa nodded.

As the silence continued, Makki leaned over and turned up the radio.

"I love this song," Oikawa said weakly, and Makki turned up the volume. "I'm headed straight for the floor. The alcohol served its tour, and it's headed straight for my skin. Leaving me daft and dim."

Oikawa's singing voice hadn't changed much. He was always a good singer, and Makki was sure to remind him.

"I'm Mr. Loveman, and I miss my lover, man. I'm Mr. Loverman. Oh, and I miss my lover, man."

Makki pressed his face against the glass. His eyes would occasionally look over to Oikawa before turning back to the view.

Eventually, the bustling city turned into an empty country road.

The two men were playing a weak-willed game of 'I Spy' as they neared Oikawa's new home.

When the large building came into view, Makki hummed. "Damn, Tooru."

The house, just as Oikawa hoped, was in good shape. The driveway was long and smooth, the grass mowed (Oikawa had already pre-paid to have the lawn mowed for the next six months), and the greyish blue paint on the house was intact. The house was three-stories with a wrap-around porch and a shed-like garage. A black metal fence surrounded the property.

Once Oikawa parked the car in front of the house, he and Makki walked out, backing up to admire the house.

"All this for 6791427¥? No rent, just all yours?"

Oikawa nodded, already opening up his car to stack boxes up. "As I said, the owner was pretty excited about giving the house away."

"Cool . . . I think."

The two talked back and forth about work, the house, and their friends. Makki tried his best to convince Oikawa to let him help unpack, but Oikawa refused.

Eventually, Matsukawa came to pick Makki up.

The mortician whistled as he approached the house. "This is cool as shit, Tooru."

"Of course you'd like it," Oikawa joked. He watched, hands shoved in his pockets, as Makki greeted Matsukawa with a kiss. "You guys can come by this weekend; I have a lot to do." Oikawa gestured to the countless boxes stacked by the front door. 

Matsukawa and Makki eyed the stacks, a hopeful gleam in their eyes when they looked back up to Oikawa.

"Drive safe."

Their faces fell, but they nodded, telling Oikawa goodbye before walking to Matsukawa's car. Oikawa watched from the front door's window, standing still until the car was out of sight. Oikawa sighed and looked down at the boxes.

Rolling up his sleeves, Oikawa huffed, "Here we go."

.

.

Countless boxes of books sat at the foot of the steps as Oikawa came down for another box of clothes.

Unpacking was going well; Oikawa had moved his kitchen appliances into the large kitchen, taken his bath products into the biggest bathroom of the house, his furniture already installed in the house by movers, and was now working on pulling his clothes up.

There were still a lot of rooms to fill, and Oikawa had decided long before moving in that he would make the largest room in the house - a circular room with a bay-window - would work as his library, and the room with the most windows would be his office. The other rooms would be whatever Oikawa wanted them to be, though he didn't have many ideas.

Just as Oikawa set his fifth box of clothes down, he heard a loud crash.

Oikawa sprinted down the stairs, instantly spotting his books fallen over. He groaned loudly and continued his descent down the steps.

Oikawa bent over to start picking up the books. That's when a large and long chill went through his spine.

It felt like a pair of hands slowly moving down his back, stroking.

Oikawa looked around, paranoia steadily seeping in.

There was no creaking of floorboards, no small wind to cause Oikawa's coldness. In fact, he could distantly hear the rumbling of the heater.

Heart still beating, Oikawa turned towards his books.

And was met with the angry face of a man.

Oikawa screamed, instinctively throwing it at the man in front of him. His horror only increased when the thick object went directly through the man.

Stumbling over his feet, Oikawa crashed into the wall. "Wh - what - what are - how are - what the hell?" He sputtered, voice rising an octave.

The man crossed his arms and looked Oikawa up and down. Still full of panic, Oikawa drank in the man's appearance. His hair was black and spiked up, and his skin tan. He was shorter than Oikawa but definitely more muscular. He was dressed in a dirty white t-shirt, a blue letterman jacket, torn jeans, and muddy hiking boots. Oikawa did his best to see the man's eye color - forest green.

His entire body had a dark teal pigment.

"What are you doing here?" The man snapped.

"I - excuse me?" 

Oikawa was still horrified, but he finally managed to get strength in his knees and pushed off the wall. The man held his ground as Oikawa walked towards him.

"I said, what are you - HEY!"

Oikawa laughed in terror as his hand moved through the man's shoulder.

The man slapped at Oikawa. When his hand went through his face, Oikawa's entire body turned cold.

"Who - who are you?"

"Iwaizumi Hajime," The man responded with a grunt. "And this is my house."

Still scared, Oikawa nodded dumbly. "Uh-huh. I'm Oikawa Tooru."

"I didn't ask," Iwaizumi snapped. 

He walked around Oikawa, kicking at his books. The books moved.

"So you're . . . a ghost?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"You GUESS? Then how do you explain _this_?" Oikawa threw the nearest book at Iwaizumi, who stared at him as it went through his head. "Okay, so you're a ghost."

Iwaizumi picked up one of Oikawa's books and threw it at him. Oikawa yelped, barely catching the heavy object. "Ghost or not, this is my house, and you need to leave." Oikawa ignored Iwaizumi. He started stacking his books but could feel Iwaizumi staring at him. When another chill came, Oikawa looked up at the glaring ghost. "Are you listening to me?"

"I am, but I need to unpack."

Iwaizumi's eyes twitched. He looked down at the stack Oikawa had made and kicked it over.

"Dude!" Oikawa snapped. He stood up straight, relishing in the brief shock that crossed Iwaizumi's face when he realized Oikawa was taller.

"This is my house," Iwaizumi snarled.

Oikawa pulled out a crisp piece of paper, one the bank had given him hours ago. "Technically," the writer said, "it's my house."

Iwaizumi narrowed his eyes at the paper, lips twitching in annoyance.

"But you're free to stay."

Oikawa was sure that if Iwaizumi had a body, he would've punched him.


	2. Ground Rules

Iwaizumi made unpacking for Oikawa actual Hell.

He slammed doors in Oikawa's face, knocked boxes out of his hands, threw everything out of rooms when Oikawa turned his back, all while glaring at Oikawa whenever he got mad.

After thirty minutes of bullying, Oikawa got better at avoiding Iwaizumi's attacks. If he left something in a room, he would stand there in complete silence, staring at the ghost until he got uncomfortable or bored. They played this game for a few more minutes before Iwaizumi gave up, choosing to pester Oikawa with annoying noises or jumpscares as he walked between floors.

"You're a real big asshole," Oikawa snapped, crouching down to pick up the box of clothes Iwaizumi scared out of his hands. He sloppily shoved the fabric into the box, wrapping his arms around the box protectively as he speed-walked towards his new bedroom. Iwaizumi chased after him. He floated over Oikawa while whistling off-key, high enough to make Oikawa's ears sting. "Asshole!" He hollered.

The bedroom was large but clearly made for one person. Oikawa's bed was pushed into the far corner, a long twin-sized bed, and his dresser was pushed on the other side of the room. The large floor-to-ceiling window brought an orange-ish hue to the room as the sun slowly set over the horizon. Boxes, a rolled-up rug, and an unbuilt desk were scattered around the room.

As Oikawa started dumping his clothes on the floor, he felt Iwaizumi staring.

"May I help you?" He asked bitterly.

Iwaizumi huffed. He kicked off of the ground to once again float over Oikawa, now hanging upside down, so his jacket and shirt pulled down. Oikawa felt jealousy drip through his veins when he spotted Iwaizumi's toned and muscular body. Great, the ghost was more muscular than Oikawa had ever been in his entire life. He found some peace in the fact he was taller than Iwaizumi and that he was, you know, alive.

 _'Woah,'_ A dark part of Oikawa chided, _'you're actually happy to be alive? Maybe you are making progress.'_

Oikawa blinked rapidly. Iwaizumi was snapping his fingers. Oikawa glared up at him.

"Pick a different room," Iwaizumi said once he had Oikawa's attention.

"No," Oikawa instantly responded, "it's my house; I can live in whatever room I want."

Oikawa confidentially walked through Iwaizumi despite the intense cold he was met with. Walking through Iwaizumi was like walking through cobwebs. 

Iwaizumi followed Oikawa out of the room, doing a summersault, so he was back on his feet. Now that they were walking side-by-side, their height difference was much more obvious. Oikawa and Iwaizumi seemed to notice at the same time because when Oikawa smugly smirked, Iwiaizumi floated slightly, so he was barely a centimeter taller than Oikawa. It was petty and reminded Oikawa of something his sister would do.

"If I'm gonna let you live here - "

"You don't have a say in whether or not I live here," Oikawa interjected. He glared at Iwaizumi as he walked down the stairs, the ghost simply floating over the steps.

Iwaizumi rolled his eyes. "Whatever. If you're gonna stay here, you're gonna have to follow some of my rules."

"YOUR RULES?" Oikawa hollered, voice echoing through the staircase. "Last I checked, I'm the one who bought the house!"

"Last I checked, I'm the one who's lived here since 1956."

"Well, that's - 1956?!"

Iwaizumi, once the two were at the end of the stairs, dropped down to the ground again. "Yeah, 1956. That means I'm older than you."

Oikawa eyed Iwaizumi. He didn't look much older than nineteen. He certainly acted like a teenager. "Don't, like, push me down the stairs for asking this," Oikawa ventured cautiously, "but how old were you when you . . . " Oikawa dragged his thumb across his neck.

"Died?"

"Yeah."

Iwaizumi sighed, falling into a lying down position as he floated alongside Oikawa. "Shit, I dunno. I think eighteen?"

"Think?"

"Time starts meaning less the longer it goes on. I stopped caring how old I am around the '70s. All I remember is that I was still in high school when I died and how I died." Oikawa opened his mouth, but Iwaizumi glared at him. "No, I will _not_ tell you how I died."

Oikawa shrugged.

Whatever.

If he were a ghost, Oikawa would want to tell people how he died, but Iwaizumi wasn't Oikawa.

"What're these rules you were talking about? Not that I'll consider any of them, I'm just curious."

Iwaizumi huffed. "Don't go into the basement - "

"Way ahead of you on that one."

"Don't interrupt me. Don't go into the basement, never go into the woods at night - "

"Obviously."

"DON'T interrupt me. Never go into the woods at night, and don't go into my room."

Oikawa snorted. "If I had had any doubts about you being a teenager, that just confirmed it."

"If I could, I would push you down the stairs."

.

.

When Oikawa finished unpacking, and when Iwaizumi finally stopped telling Oikawa to change rooms, the writer stood in the kitchen.

He was pulling out ingredients for dinner when a thought crossed his mind.

"Hey, Iwa-chan!"

Instantly, Iwaizumi's head came through the wall. "What the _fuck_ did you just call me?"

"Iwa-chan; Iwaizumi's a mouthful."

"I think you're just stupid."

Oikawa bit back a comment. "Whatever. Do you eat?"

Iwaizumi tilted his head and raised his eyebrows. His eyes screamed the question, " _Are you fucking stupid?_ "

In an attempt to save himself, Oikawa asked, "I mean, _can_ you eat?"

"Yeah, I can, but I don't get hungry or anything."

Nodding, Oikawa pulled out a second bowl.

Iwaizumi pushed through the wall, once again floating upside down. "You don't have to do that."

"I know, but if I spend time making you something, you'll feel more compelled to eat it."

"You're a shitty guy."

Oikawa paused in his movements, hand hovering over the carton of eggs he was reaching for. His eyes darkened, jaw turning a bit slack.

He grabbed the eggs and turned away to avoid Iwaizumi's stare.

"Yeah, I know I am."

.

.

Dinner was quiet.

Neither men tried to make a conversation, and neither of them seemed to mind.

When they finished, Oikawa washed the dishes, put everything away, and nodded when Iwaizumi mumbled, " _thank you_."

They retreated to separate rooms. Iwaizumi went to a room down the hall from Oikawa's bedroom, and Oikawa got comfortable in his new office.

The moonlight, along with the installed lights, gave the room a relaxing feeling.

Oikawa sat at his desk, laptop open, and his work waiting to be done.

Plugging in his headphones, Oikawa cracked his knuckles and prepared for a sleepless night.


	3. Dad, Dad, Meet My Ghost Roommate

"You look like shit."

"Good morning to you, too, Iwa-chan."

"Don't call me that."

Oikawa narrowed his droopy eyes at the ghost sitting on his living room couch. "Iwa-chan," he said weakly. Iwaizumi glared at Oikawa, following him into the kitchen where the coffee pot was already brewing. Oikawa turned to Iwaizumi. "You did this?"

"I like coffee."

Oikawa hummed. "And here I thought you did something nice for me."

"In your dreams, Shittykawa."

"Creative nickname, Iwa-chan."

"I'll call you whatever I want," Iwaizumi snapped, pulling the cabinet open and taking out two mugs. He handed one to Oikawa then went to the fridge. Instead of opening it, Iwaizumi stuck his head in. Oikawa stared with a disturbed expression. "Where's the creamer?"

"I don't have any."

Iwaizumi pulled his head out. Now it was his turn to look disgusted. "Who drinks straight black coffee?"

Oikawa looked around. "Uh, me?"

"You're disgusting, Shittykawa."

Oikawa shrugged - nothing he hasn't heard before. Makki was a tea man, and Matsukawa couldn't stomach bitter things.

Speaking of his best friends . . .

"I have some friends coming over, is that okay?"

Iwaizumi set the mug onto the counter, shooting a disgusted look at the coffee pot. "The pinkie and the tired-looking guy?"

Oikawa nodded. "Hanamaki and Matsukawa."

"I don't care what their names are. Just make sure they aren't too loud."

Iwaizumi jumped, vanishing through the wall. Oikawa, once he was sure Iwaizumi wouldn't see, flipped off the wall the black-haired ghost went through.

"I saw that!"

"How?!"

.

.

Makki and Matsukawa stared, blinking in unison as they searched for words.

Iwaizumi floated by Oikawa's side, who was holding his hands together with puffed up cheeks. His eyes were wide as he waited for his friends to say something. Anything.

"WHAT THE FUCK?!" Makki finally screamed. Matsukawa wrapped his arm around Makki while Oikawa flinched away. Iwaizumi leaned back a bit, legs kicking upwards in surprise. "Tooru! What the fuck! When I said you needed to meet some people a few weeks ago, I didn't mean the ghost of some hot dude from the '50s!"

Iwaizumi blushed. "Hot?" He mumbled.

Oikawa glared. Either Iwaizumi was fishing for compliments, or he was oblivious to how attractive he was. Both possibilities were equally annoying.

Matsukawa shrugged. "Eh, if it gives him some company, who are we to complain?"

"He's more of a bully than company," Oikawa snapped, "terrorized me for thirty minutes when I tried to unpack."

"I told you to let us help, but noooo! You had to put on your big-boy pants and do it yourself! Would it kill you to ask for help every once in a while?"

Completely forgetting about Iwaizumi, Oikawa snapped, "Is this about the stupid therapist."

"Maybe." Makki crossed his arms. "He can  _ help _ you, Tooru."

"I don't need help, Makki!"

"That's what you said last time, and we all remember what happened last time!"

Iwaizumi floated between the two. "What happened last time?"

Oikawa turned red at the reminder Iwaizumi was there, getting a front-row seat to Oikawa and Makki's spat. "Nothing! It's none of your business!"

Makki chewed his lip. Matsukawa grabbed both of their shoulders. "Everyone just . . . calm down. Tooru, you don't have to go to therapy, but it's always an option. Hiro, I get you're concerned, but you can't force Tooru to do things." Matsukawa looked up at Iwaizumi. "Besides, I doubt either of you wants to throw your issues onto the ghost."

Makki looked at Iwaizumi with narrowed eyes. "Yeah, you're right."

Oikawa sighed heavily. He hugged himself and forced a smile. "Alright, I'm sorry, wanna see the house?"

"Yeah."

As the three walked away, Oikawa could feel Iwaizumi boring holes in his back.

He tried his best to ignore it and hoped he wouldn't have another person hounding him.

.

.

"So he's a ghost."

"Yeah."

"Whole package? You can stick your hand through him? He can go through walls?"

"Yeah."

"That's cool."

Makki's eye twitched as he glared at Matsukawa. "It's freaky."

"But freaky in a cool way," Matsukawa defended himself. He laughed lightly, hand moving down from Makki's shoulders to his waist. "Is he that bad, Tooru?"

Oikawa shrugged, leading his friends into the library. "Not really, no. He calmed down after harassing me, and now he makes sarcastic comments or slaps my neck to give me chills while I work." Oikawa shivered at the memory from not long ago; he had been trying to finish some work before Makki and Matsukawa came over, and while he was busy being a functioning member of society, Iwaizumi smacked Oikawa. His hand obviously went through, but the chill Oikawa felt was enough to leave him sitting straight and wide-eyed for minutes.

Iwaizumi found it to be hysterical.

Matsukawa wandered towards the bay-window. He sat down, slapping his lap for Makki to join him, which he did. Oikawa scrunched his nose up at the display of affection.

"Really? Right here? Right as I'm telling you about the ghost in my house?"

Makki, seemingly still bitter about his and Oikawa's spat, swung his legs around Matsukawa's waist, so he was now straddling the smirking mortician. While Matsukawa was more than delighted with the change of position, Oikawa faked gagging noises, covering his eyes with one hand and at the couple like flies. They'd done this countless times before - in high school, in college, in their early starting of being adults. The joke never got old.

Once everyone settled down, the group of three sat at the bay-window, catching up on things they might've missed. Oikawa did most of the talking, telling Makki and Matskawa about the house and how Iwaizumi was "such a lovely houseguest" with a thick layer of sarcasm. In response to his statement, Iwaizumi briefly appeared in the room. He and Oikawa held eye contact as a row of books fell from the bookshelf.

"What'd I tell you? Absolutely lovely," Oikawa said in a perfect deadpan. Makki joined the writer in putting the books away while Matsukawa used his long arms to protect their heads from any more of Iwaizumi's attacks. Thankfully, the ghost went away as quickly as he came. "You'd think someone as old as him wouldn't have unfinished business and all that shit."

Matsukawa shrugged. "Sometimes, ghosts just don't want to leave their homes."

"Since when are you a ghost expert?" Makki grumbled, holding a stack of books under his chin. Matsukawa quickly took them from him, slipping them into the empty shelf with ease. "How old was he when he died?"

"He doesn't remember exactly, but he thinks eighteen."

"Thought so," Makki mumbled, "He looks young."

Oikawa nodded. A thick silence fell over the room. 

It was at that moment Oikawa realized how sad it was; Iwaizumi died at eighteen, the age many people started truly living their lives. When Oikawa was cleaning up a bit, he found a small storage room filled with trophies and unopened college acceptance letters. Oikawa felt sick from being in the room and locked the door when he found the keys the previous owner gave him. He hoped Iwaizumi wouldn't find out he was in that room.

When the books were back in place, the group migrated to Oikawa's bedroom. Oikawa was only a little surprised to see Iwaizumi inside.

"Tooru, you need to fold your damn clothes," Matsukawa quickly chided.

He and Makki approached the various baskets of clean laundry with judgemental glares.

Oikawa shrugged. "I'll do it later."

Makki looked Oikawa up and down. "You've been wearing that hoodie since last week, and those jeans don't look too clean either."

"That's disgusting," Iwaizumi said. He shoved his hands in his pockets, sending a glare to Oikawa before falling through the floor.

Oikawa flipped off the floor.

"I saw that!" Iwaizumi called, his voice coming from the right rather than the ground.

"He's lovely, isn't he?"

.

.

Matsukawa held the door open for Makki. "Welp, this was fun," he said, looking around the house, eyes landing on Iwaizumi, who was hanging around the living room, "huh, nice meeting you."  Iwaizumi nodded. Matsukawa nodded back and smacked his lips. He turned towards Tooru, expression softening. The two shared a hug. "Take care of yourself, Tooru, okay?"

"Okay."

Makki squeezed Oikawa's shoulders. "Promise?"

"I promise."

"Are you taking - "

"Every night, Makki, I swear."

Satisfied with that answer, Makki pulled Oikawa into a tight hug. Matsukawa rubbed both of their backs before leaving to start the car.

The two men pulled apart. "I love you; you know that, right?"

Oikawa opened his mouth before closing it. "I - Yeah, I know, Makki. I love you, too."

Something in Makki's eyes darkened, and Oikawa knew there were so many things to say, but neither of them said anything.

"I'll text you when we get home."

"You always do."

Then, just like that, the door was shut, and Oikawa was watching his best friends' car drive away.

Oikawa turned around. He yelped; Iwaizumi was standing way too close, eyes narrowed. "What was all that?"

Heart beating, Oikawa turned towards the kitchen. "Nothing important. What do you want for dinner?"

"Agedashi Tofu."

"Something simple."

Iwaizumi followed Oikawa into the kitchen. "You asked me what I wanted, though."

"I was trying to be nice, Iwa-chan."

Iwaizumi stuck his head into the fridge. This time, Oikawa wasn't too disturbed.

"Chicken fried rice?"

Oikawa nodded, turning on the water. "I can do that."


	4. Grocery Shopping With a Ghost

Oikawa stared at the basket of clothes like it was his worst enemy.

He was dressed in nothing but black boxers, the hoodie, and jeans he'd been wearing for about a week waiting at the end of the bed. Oikawa thought about what he'd promised Makki; he'd take care of himself. Sighing heavily, Oikawa pulled one of the baskets close and started folding his laundry. From an outside perspective, Oikawa was doing the bare minimum of existing, but to him, this was painful to do.

Oikawa tossed one of his shirts onto the bed with the pile of others. He stared down at the basket, now filled with socks and underwear. Oikawa felt his eyes gloss over as he zoned out. His shoulders suddenly felt heavy, knees too weak to support himself. Oikawa rubbed his face aggressively and groaned into his palms. He needed to get his shit together.

"Oi, Shittykawa, you're - "

Oikawa weakly turned his head to look at Iwaizumi. The ghost was halfway through the floor with a wide-eyed expression. Oikawa quickly wrapped his arms around himself with a pink face. "What?" He snapped. "Not everyone can look like you, you know?"

Iwaizumi blinked a couple of times, shaking his head before returning to his usual self - grumpy. "You're out of food."

"Of course, I am." Oikawa looked around his bed for his glasses. When he found them, he picked them up and walked towards the bathroom. Iwaizumi followed him. "I'll go get groceries after I get ready; do you want anything?" Oikawa rolled his eyes back, pulling out his contacts with ease. Iwaizumi gagged, and Oikawa scoffed. "Don't be a baby."

"I'm not a baby, Shittykawa."

"Compared to me, you are."

Iwaizumi's eye twitched. "And how old are you?"

"I turned 26 this July."

"26? You look 20."

Oikawa looked at Iwaizumi skeptically. He didn't trust a compliment from Iwaizumi - there had to be a catch.

"I mean, like a distressed, sleep-deprived 20-year-old, but a 20-year-old nonetheless."

"Are you just gonna insult me, or are you gonna tell me what you want?"

Iwaizumi shrugged. "I don't care."

"Cool." Oikawa turned to the shower. When Iwaizumi didn't leave, Oikawa smirked. "Iwa-chan, what a pervert."

Instantly, Iwaizumi dropped down through the floor. Oikawa laughed and relished in the fact he got Iwaizumi to leave.

.

.

"You took your sweet time," Iwaizumi commented. Oikawa walked into the kitchen with a light glare. Iwaizumi was sitting on top of the refrigerator, watching Oikawa from above like some righteous god. Oh, the millions Oikawa would give to be able to punch Iwaizumi. "Nice to see you're wearing clean clothes. I was worried I was sharing my house with a slob."

"Once again, it's my house, and you don't get to make any comments on my clothes."

Iwaizumi scratched his nose. "At least my clothes don't get dirty."

Oikawa shrugged. Iwaizumi wasn't wrong, though Oikawa would never say that aloud. 

The clothes weren't anything special, not even an improvement from his previous outfit. The salmon hoodie was a gift from Makki, and the cuffed jeans had been sitting in Oikawa's wardrobe for years, waiting to be worn again. The checkered vans were a purchase from years ago, and Oikawa was quite surprised to find they still fit.

Oikawa grabbed a piece of paper from a drawer along with a pen. He looked inside cabinets and the fridge to figure out what he needed. He scribbled it down quickly, mumbling to himself. Iwaizumi was quiet the entire time. He wandered around the kitchen, sometimes swinging cabinets open. Oikawa dodged one that nearly smacked him in the face.

"I thought we were done with this," the brunet snarled, slamming the cabinet shut. Iwaizumi stuck his head out of the said cabinet with a small frown. "I'm trying to be nice."

"I don't like you."

Oikawa walked away from Iwaizumi, crunching the paper in his hands. "Yeah, yeah, I know." Checking over his list again, Oikawa walked out of the kitchen. Iwaizumi followed, blowing cold air on Oikawa's neck. Oikawa was mostly unaffected by it, seeing as Iwaizumi had been attacking him with cold air since day one. "I'll be back in an hour or two."

Iwaizumi went quiet for a couple of seconds. Oikawa waited patiently for the sarcastic comment but was surprised when Iwaizumi softly asked, "Can I come with?"

"I - I mean, sure, but  _ can _ you? Can you, like, leave the house?"

Iwaizumi nodded. "As long as you bring a piece of the house with you." He nodded towards a loose piece of paint on the doorframe. "Take that with you." Oikawa awkwardly pulled off the paint. He was waiting for Iwaizumi to laugh at him, call him an idiot for thinking that was how it worked. When it didn't come, and Iwaizumi started following Oikawa out of the house, the writer eased up.

"Heads up, no one else can see me."

"Makki and Matsun can see you, though."

The two got into the car - Oikawa opened up a door while Iwaizumi dived in from the top of the car. Oikawa watched Iwaizumi look around the car with an interested gaze. Sometimes he forgot Iwaizumi was from the '50s, meaning he didn't know a single thing about cars and shit. Oikawa chuckled lightly at the reminder. Iwaizumi glared at Oikawa.

"They can see me because they went inside the house."

Oikawa started the car, pulling out of the driveway. Iwaizumi shifted in the car. He looked somewhat excited. Oikawa wondered how long it'd been since Iwaizumi left the house.

"The logistics of ghosts confuse me," Oikawa mumbled. "You can touch inanimate objects but not people. Every time you touch me, I get cold, but I'm never cold when I stand next to you. Now you're telling me only people who walk into my house can see you? Before this, I didn't even  _ believe _ in ghosts."

Iwaizumi shrugged. "Before I died, I didn't believe in ghosts. I don't even know all the logistics. I only know a couple of things."

"Do you know how you could change clothes? No offense, but you look dirty."

Iwaizumi glared at Oikawa. "Watch it, I might not be able to touch you, but I can mess with your car."

"Are you threatening me?"

"Maybe."

Oikawa sparred a glance at Iwaizumi. He was relieved to see the ghost was smiling rather than smirking or frowning. "Seriously, though, can you change clothes?"

"I don't know, I never tried," Iwaizumi said, slumping in his seat despite being comfortable no matter how he sat. "I think if I put them on, they won't look like mine. Like, they won't have the weird tint mine have." He fiddled with the sleeve of his letterman. He brought it to his nose and sniffed. "Jesus."

Oikawa laughed. "Told you, you look dirty."

"What part of I can mess with your car are you not getting?"

"You may be mean, but I don't think you're a murderer, Iwa-chan."

Iwaizumi crossed his arms. "There's a first time for everything."

In any other circumstances, it would be scary, but considering Iwaizumi had said it in such a pouty tone, Oikawa could only laugh.

.

.

"Creamer," Iwaizumi said quickly. Oikawa glanced to the side and watched the bottle of creamer fall into his cart. Iwaizumi was floating above the cart, looking around the grocery store like an excited child. "Hey, what're these?"

Oikawa chortled lightly. Iwaizumi was pointing at a large bag of Hi-Chew candy. "It's candy," he said quietly. He reached out and held up the bag to pretend he was reading the small text on the back. Iwaizumi tilted his head. "Want it?"

Iwaizumi nodded. Oikawa smiled, dropping the bag into the cart.

Iwaizumi was easy to talk to when he wasn't trying to ruin Oikawa's day. Maybe it was because of his excitement to be out of the house, but Oikawa wasn't one to complain about good things.

While Oikawa was trying to figure out what kind of Gatorade he should get, Iwaizumi tapped his shoulder. Or, whatever equivalent to tapping someone's shoulder was when you're a ghost. Oikawa turned his head, already smiling softly, to see Iwaizumi holding a Godzilla DVD. There was a childlike glint in his eyes. Oikawa snorted louder than he would've liked, but he quickly took the DVD case from Iwaizumi and dropped it into the cart before someone started screaming about a floating Godzilla case.

"Never took you for a monster-lover."

"Are you kidding me?" Iwaizumi laughed, a bright smile on his face. "I lived for that shit when I was alive! If I still had my old clothes, you'd find SO many monster t-shirts. I was obsessed!"

Oikawa hummed. "In that case, I'll be sure to some movies."

Iwaizumi nodded his head excitedly.

_ 'This is a nice change of pace,' _ Oikawa thought. It was nice to have Iwaizumi being nice to him, to see the usually brooding ghost smiling and bouncing off the walls.

"C'mon, let's see if you can wear clothes."

Iwaizumi followed Oikawa into the clothing-section. He looked completely lost with everything and was sticking closer than before to the writer. Oikawa didn't mind - it made it easier to figure out what size Iwaizumi needed. He grabbed a random pair of dark green pants, a grey hoodie, and a jean jacket. Oikawa led Iwaizumi into the changing room, setting the clothes down.

"You're gonna . . . stay in here?"

Oikawa rolled his eyes. "Don't worry; I'm not a pervert."

"Hm, your browsing history says otherwise."

Oikawa flushed a dark crimson. "You - how do you know my browsing history?"

Iwaizumi smirked. "I can go through walls, Shittykawa."

After having a mini heart attack, Oikawa smirked and looked Iwaizumi up and down. "Did you see anything else? If so, who's the real pervert?"

Oikawa figured out pretty quickly that Iwaizumi couldn't blush. It didn't matter. Oikawa didn't need a red face to know Iwaizumi was embarrassed by Oikawa's accusation.

Even so, the shorter male grunted out, "Obviously not."

Laughing slightly, Oikawa handed Iwaizumi the pants. 

Iwaizumi hesitantly accepted them and popped the button to his jeans. Oikawa had enough decency to cover his eyes. After a few seconds of rustling and a zipper, Oikawa asked, "Did it work?"

"Yeah. Yeah, it worked. It worked better than I expected."

Oikawa dropped his hand and was delightfully surprised. Not only had Iwaizumi managed to change, but his old pants were solid. The new pants had the same blue tint as the rest of Iwaizumi's clothes. "Look at that," Oikawa marveled, "it worked. Do they fit?"

"Mhm." 

Oikawa smiled and stood. "Hang tight; I'll go get you some more clothes."

"Uh, thanks."

.

.

Now equipped with groceries that would last for a month and a new wardrobe, Oikawa and Iwaizumi were driving down the road in silence.

Iwaizumi shifted awkwardly in his seat. "Um, thank you."

"For?"

"Everything? The clothes, the food, actually agreeing to take me out of the house."

Oikawa shrugged. "I would've felt like a dick if I didn't take you out. I could tell it's been a while since you've left."

"Yeah, yeah, it has."

"The food and clothes were just . . . me being nice."

Iwaizumi changed his position once again. He now sat with his knees to his chest. It was different from how he usually sat - legs spread, arms crossed or at his sides, basically a sitting position that made Oikawa pissed off. This position was soft, reserved. Vulnerable.

"I appreciate it. The last person to live in the house . . . they didn't like me much."

Oikawa nodded. He didn't want to pry when the topic was clearly uncomfortable. Instead, Oikawa reached his hand out and turned on the radio.

And immediately turned it off when "Body" by Mother Mother started playing.

Way to ruin a moment, Radio.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You smell that? That's the smell of a blooming friendship.


End file.
